My Nightmare
by TigerButterflied
Summary: It's the worst day of Greg's life...
1. Chapter 1

This older story was written in response to a challenge. It was my first attempt at grim, serious, and angsty. The characters they are not mine.

"Look alive, Greggo; we got a live one... well, a dead one I should say."

"What is it this time - a floater in the wastewater treatment ponds? " Greg was NOT in a good mood, not in any way, shape, or form. His perfect older brother Wills had just called to gloat about being named head of sales at a top pharmaceutical firm. As soon as they hung up his Dad called, predictably to lay upon him the many ways in which he had never and would never measure up to Wills. Wills was nine years older, athletic and confident, handsome and buff - everything Greg could never be. The fact that Greg's IQ was probably 30 points higher than Wills' apparently impressed no one, most especially their Dad. Greg had once again been reminded that he was the pale, nerdy one, the geek who spent prom night alone, the skinny, peculiar-looking one who seemed unable to attract the girls' attention. Charming Wills had married to his college sweetheart, the beautiful, sweet, and exceptionally gullible daughter of the firm's president. Greg felt sorry for her. She wasn't the sharpest girl he'd ever met, but she deserved better than the philandering snake she was married to. At any rate, thanks to his Dad Greg now felt even more like a loser than he had the day before - and that was saying something.

Greg glowered over at Nick. In many ways Nick Stokes reminded him of Wills, which was probably why they had so easily fallen into the big brother/ little brother roles that seemed to define their friendship. Most of the time Greg enjoyed it - it was like having a brother who actually liked and respected him - but today it felt a lot like having his nose rubbed in his shortcomings.

"Here we are." Nick pulled up to a nice condo complex and exited the vehicle. "Follow the nice policemen."

They took the elevator to the eighth floor and were escorted to an open door at the end of the hall. Nick went in ahead of him, and Greg followed down a narrow hall. A dark-haired male was sprawled facedown on a bed, and as Greg watched Dave and Nick carefully turned the body over.

Greg gasped. "Oh. Crap."

"What's wrong, Greg?" Dave glanced at his in concern. "You know this guy?"

"Yeah, um.. yeah. Rich Morton. We were roommates when I first came to Vegas. About six months afterward he, um, I caught him in bed with my girlfriend."

Nick looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Greg, man, you know the drill. That was seven, eight years ago, true, but you can't be on this case. They have to rule you out."

Greg sighed. The questions he was going to be answering would ensure that everyone at the lab would soon know WAY more about him than he wanted them to. What he didn't tell, Mandy would - after all, she and Rich were married, or at least had been at one time. "Okay. Make the calls."

"Okay, Sanders, stick with me here. We have to get the full story. Start at the beginning - where you and the victim met - and end the last time you parted company." Brass was being nice to him at least, which made things a little easier.

"Okay. I graduated from college in 1995."

Brass looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You were just twenty in '95"

"I started college 2 years early and graduated on time. Anyhow, I spent a few months in a hospital lab in New York City, realized it wasn't the town for me, and moved to San Francisco in January of 1996. I worked at the San Fancisco DNA lab for a bit, then got the job here in November of 1997. I was 22. Rich had advertised for a roommate in the paper. I answered the ad. The apartment was okay, the price was right, so we became roommates. We got along okay. Then I met Mandy."

Brass motioned for him to coninue, so Greg cleared his throat and did so. "I met Mandy at a local coffee shop in January of 1998. We started dating and it, it got pretty heavy. For me at least. I hadn't, hadn't had a lot of luck with relationships up til then, and she was so sweet and special. I fell for her pretty hard."

"She was your first." Brass's voice held no ridicule, just understanding.

Greg nodded and continued. "For abot six months we were, you know, hot and heavy, all the time, mostly at her place, but from time to time at mine. She knew Rich, and they kidded with each other. I never thought anything of it until I, um, I came home from work one morning and caught them..."

Greg put his hands over his face and paused. "They were in MY bed." He felt Brass's hand on his shoulder and continued. "I just left. I drove around for a while, then started looking for apartments. Found one that day, put down a deposit, and packed out the next day. Rich didn't have much to say. He knew why. Anyhow, that was that. I called Mandy once after that to ask her why she'd done it. I loved her, once thought I'd marry her."

"What did she say?"

Greg looked at him with red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "Do I have to answer that?"

"It'd be in your best interests if you want to stay a CSI."

"She, uh, told me about my various sexual inadequacies. About a year later she called me at work to tell me she and Rich had gotten married. That was the last I heard of either of them. That was around May of 1999."

Brass sighed. "Look, Sanders, I'm going to be honest with you. If this guy had died in '98 or '99 you'd be a prime suspect. But it was six years ago, and from what Robbins says the guy died while you were here in the lab working on a case, HOWEVER I'm guessing Grissom will be putting you on leave until we get you fully ruled out. That doesn't mean any of us think you're a killer. You gave DNA and got processed already, Nick is doing your car as we speak, so hopefully this will be over before you know it."

Grissom met him on his way to the showers. "Greg. Need to talk to you."

Greg spread his hands out. "I know. On leave."

"Just 'til we get this cleared up. You don't have a gun."

"No. Lord no."

Grissom gave him a strange half-smile. "Get Sara to give you a lift home - Nick's still working on your car."

Greg sauntered to the locker room and collapsed onto a bench. "I thought I was WAY past this," he muttered to himself, then put his hands over his face. His shoulders heaved and shook with sobs he could no longer hold back, tears for his long ago broken heart, for his many failings, for the pride he knew his family would never have in him, of humiliation for what he had held most secret but was even now fast becoming common knowledge.

He didn't hear Sara enter the locker room, didn't know she was there until she'd sat down and wrapped him in a hug. "It's going to be okay, Greg. It's okay. None of us think you killed that guy. You're the gentlest man I know. I know you're not a killer."

Greg shook his head. "You know a lot more than that, now don't you?"

"Yeah. I know you got your heart broken but were strong enough to come back from it. Greg, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. You just made a bad choice in friends and girlfriends. That's all. That's what everyone going over this case will realize. Most of us have been there at one point or another. You know what happened to me with Hank. It wasn't the first time."

He was feeling a little better at this point. Sara smiled brightly and kissed him on the cheek. "Now, see, things are never as bad as they seem. By the way, I can't really be telling you this so you don't know it yet, but Doc Robbins is fairly sure Morton died from a cerebral aneurism, possibly from all the cocaine he's been sucking up his nose. I'm guessing you'll be back again tonight if not sooner." She stood and placed one hand on Greg's shoulder. "I have to go. And you don't know anything."

Greg sniffed and smiled. "Thanks, Sara." His cell phone began to ring.

"Answer that." Sara slipped out of the locker room.

"Sanders."

"Greg? This is Brass. I need to see you in my office."

"Yes, sir." Greg flipped the phone closed. It seemed his personal ordeal was nearing its end.

Greg tapped lightly on Brass's open office door and stepped in. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I needed to ask you about something. Please, sit down." Greg obeyed, and Brass just looked at him for a few moments. "I didn't know you had any kids," he finally said.

Greg's eyebrows went up. "I don't."

Brass sighed in exasperation. "Then whywas there a baby complete with car seat sitting on your doorstep with a note pinned to his blanky saying "Mr. Sanders : Happy Belated Father's Day?"

Greg shook his head. "This has got to be a joke. I don't have a baby."

"Well, if the child is not yours, why was it on your doorstep?"

Greg again shook his head. "I don't know, but I am absolutely 100 sure the baby is not mine."

Brass sat back and glared at Greg. "Son, how can you possibly say that?"

Greg leaned forward. "You said it was a baby. May I assume that means it's under a year old?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I saw him out there; I'd say he's about six weeks old, give or take a couple weeks."

Greg was angry enough at this point his voice was getting loud. "I haven't had sex in three and a half years. How the HELL could the baby be mine?"

Brass started laughing. "Well, I'll be damned. You're twenty-nine, and you're getting laid less than I am. I thought you were the lab wild man."

Greg sighed and looked at the desk. "You already have my DNA. Run it against his."

Brass spread his hands. "Already being done."

"Then may I please go home?"

Brass nodded as Greg stalked out of the office. He really did feel kind of sorry for the kid.

Greg threw his jacket over the back of the sofa and stalked over to the fridge. The message light on his machine was blinking. The way the day was going it was probably the IRS informing him he was being audited. He put the milk carton to his mouth and took a swig. It just wasn't fair. Nick and Warrick had women swarming them like flies, but they were both determined to avoid even the slightest bit of committment. All HE really wanted was one good woman - one particular woman, in fact - and he'd be more than happy to be all hers. Three and a half years since even a one-night stand - and that had been truly awful. He hadn't been in a relationship for a lot longer than that - not for want of trying. He just never seemed to get past the first date.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. "Sanders? Okay; be there in twenty." He threw on his jacket and headed for the door. Maybe his trials were finally coming to an end. The DNA should be finishing up soon (it would already have been done if he had done the test, but Mia wasn't him), and surely Robbins should be done with the autopsy soon. Then again, maybe they felt they had evidence he was Osama Bin Laden. He was almost afraid to feel optimistic.

Once again he knocked on Brass's door. "Greg, hey, come in. Look, first I want to tell you all's clear on the Morton homicide. He died while you were on shift from natural causes, so you were cleared from two different directions."

"DNA back on the baby?"

"Yeah. You aren't the daddy - but it looks like you are related somehow. Do you have a brother?"

"Um, yeah. Two of them in fact. Robert is going to UCLA; Wills lives here in Vegas."

"We're going to need his address. We ran the baby's footprints against hospital records, and we have a name and address for the mother, but it seems she's left town. That makes your brother the child's legal guardian."

Greg's mouth opened and closed. "He's... he's married."

"I don't care if he's Willie Wonka. We need to get him down here and get him tested so this child can be dealt with."

Greg grabbed a pen and a pad and scribbled a number. "There you go."

"Thanks." Brass passed the number to a second officer, who left the room. "Now I need to ask you a few questions about your brother."

"Why?" Greg's cell phone again began to ring. "Sanders," he hissed. "Uh, Dad. Hi. What's... Uh-huh. Oh no. No! Yes, I'll... bye."

"You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. I can't ever remember being this far from okay in my life." He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I have to go."

"Hey, wait wait wait! We need to talk about you brother."

Greg spun around and glared at him. "You don't get it, do you? My little brother Robert was just killed in a car accident. I have to go!" With that, he ran out of the office and headed down the hall, almost running down Catherine in the process.

"Whoah!" She grabbed him by his jacket, effectively forcing him to stop. "What's wrong?"

"Everything, Catherine. Absolutely everything. My little brother just died in a car crash and Brass expects me to stay here and tell him my older brother's damned life history - like I would know; the guy hates me. I have to go, Catherine. I have to go!"

"Call me," Catherine said, still hanging onto him. "And call Sara! Call her now."

When she released him Greg just shook his head and staggered toward the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter two for you. Still not mine.

"Damn, Catherine! I can't believe you just let him leave like that!  
What were you thinking?"

"What did you expect me to do, Sara? Trip the boy and sit on him until you got here? He said he had to go. I let him go. I'm guessing he went to be with his family. That would be the logical place."

"Maybe." Sara's voice was tight. "I'm headed out of here. Tell Grissom what's going on." With that she ran out of the lab without waiting for an answer. She could find him if anyone could. She only hoped he wanted to be found.

"Dammit, Greg, pick up the freaking phone. It's me." She sighed heavily and snapped her telephone closed. She had driven by his apartment, the lab, his apartment again. Now she was headed home to the internet to check out where his family lived. He could run, but she'd be damned if she'd let him hide.

She pulled into her parking space, and her heart skipped a beat. His car was parked in the adjoining space, and he sat crosslegged on her steps. She opened the car door and ran to him.

She grabbed his hand and hurriedly unlocked her front door and pulled him in.

His eyes were puffy and red, his cheeks mottled from crying. She led him to the sofa to sit down. "I didn't know where to go," he whispered. "He's dead, Sara. The only person in my entire damned family who ever saw me as anything other than a disappointment and he's dead." He sniffed loudly. "Now that you know the truth about me I guess there's no hope you'll ever feel anything for me but pity and maybe disgust, huh."

Sara shook her head and pulled him into her arms. "No pity or disgust. I have had the overwhelming urge to kick your butt for heading out of there without me, but now that I've found you I'm too relieved to even be mad any more. You're my best friend, Greg. I was so afraid..." She bit her lip, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"You were afraid I'd kill myself, weren't you?" His voice was sad and even. "I can't lie to you, Sara. There have been times in my life I've thought about it very seriously. If I didn't have you to turn to tonight would have been one of them, but I knew you'd be home eventually." He sighed. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I'm weak, sorry I don't have the balls to deal with this. I try to hold it together, but this time it all came undone, and I have no clue how to even start putting my life back together again."

"You're not weak, Greg. You're in crisis. I seem to come undone on a regular basis, and you've put me back together more than you know. Now it's my turn." She stroked his hair. "You're staying here for a while." She paused. She knew she had to ask but wasn't sure how he'd take it. "Are you going home for the funeral?"

He tensed. "For Robert. Yeah." He paused. "I'm not going to the house. Dad doesn't want me there. He has Wills to comfort him. I can't deal with either of them right now."

"What about your Mom?"

He shrugged. "I'm guessing they'll bury Robert right next to her. She died when I was sixteen, right at the start of my freshman year of college. It was really tough on all of us, but Robert especially. He was just a kid, you know? He made it, though. " He shook his head. "And I know, I know I'm a terrible person, because I just wish, I wish..." His voice broke to a whisper. "... I wish it had been Wills that died instead of Robert." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Wills was always so fucking perfect. He's the handsome one, the athlete, always knows the right thing to say. He's on the fast track at a major pharmaceutical company. He's married to an heiress. Always Wills. Yeah, I'm smarter, but that doesn't matter, because guys like him get guys like me to do their homework for them." His eyes bored into Sara's. "I despise him, Sara. He's my own brother and I hate him. I really do think he doesn't have a soul. I KNOW he doesn't have a conscience. He's coldhearted, cruel, selfish, vain, and treats women like crap. You know the baby they found on my doorstep? That was his, by one of his girlfriends. He's married, Sara, and he won't let his own wife have his child because she might get fat, but he made a baby with someone else and will probably expect her to raise it for him. Can you imagine that?"

Sara shook her head. "No, I can't."

"Robert wasn't like Wills, not like me either, but not like Wills. He was a good person, but always serious, focused. He wanted to make the world a better place. He was finishing up pre-med, wanted to be be a pediatrician. He would've done it, too." Greg sighed and squirmed. "You know all the rest. Want to hear the clencher? It's why Dad hates me so much. I'm not his."

Sara raised her eyebrows but didn't answer.

Greg shook his head. "When I was a teenager, right after Mom first got sick, I couldn't understand why Dad hated me so much. I was depressed, feeling like a total waste. She was sitting on my bed and we were talking. She just looked at me, ruffled my hair, and told me she knew why I was so different from Wills and Robert. She said she and Dad had separated when Wills was seven. She'd worked at a coffee shop on the UCLA campus to support them. Every day, this young professor would come in and sit at her table and order coffee. He was painfully shy, but eventually he worked up the nerve to ask her out. They dated for close to a year. When she found out I was on the way he wanted her to get a divorce from Dad and marry him, but Dad threatened to take Robert if she didn't go back to him, and he had the means to do it. She said I was her favorite because I was just like my real father. I begged her to tell me who he was, but she refused. She never did tell me, only said that he was a good man, a brilliant scientist and medical researcher and that sometimes she wished she'd told Dad to go to hell and married him like she wanted to."

"So you don't know who he is?"

"No. I have suspicions, but nothing certain. There's this guy. I don't know who he is, but I think... I think he's been there looking on sometimes. At my graduation, Mom's funeral. Once when I visited her grave he was kneeling beside it, placing a red rose on the headstone. He turned and looked at me, just looked into my eyes and walked away. He was about my height, medium brown hair, slight build. I wish I knew who he was."

"Greg. I'll bet he'll be at your brother's funeral. He obviously loved your mother, and he clearly cares about you." Sara's voice was excited. "I'm going with you. You don't need to worry about your dad and Wills. They WON'T bother you. If they do, I'll handle it."

Greg chuckled. "I believe you would, too."

She grinned. "After the way they've treated you, it won't take much."

Greg sipped at his coffee while Sara made phone calls. "Uh-huh. Meadowview Cemetary. Tomorrow at two. Thank you so much." She hung up the telephone. "It seems like we need to get going. I'm packed; we just need to stop by your place and we're on our way to San Gabriel."

"What about work?"

"I called while you were asleep. Grissom wasn't thrilled, but he'll get over it. We're out until they hear from us. Emergency leave of absence."

"Guess I need to get moving, then."

"Yes, you do. You know where the bathroom is. Towels are on the shelf over the toilet. You can shave at your place."

An hour later, the two were on their way. "It's ten a.m. now. We should be there by five or six, depending on traffic."

Greg laughed. "Discounting traffic jams, yeah."

"You okay?" She glanced over at his. Today he almost seemed like himself.

He shrugged. "Yeah, considering. I still can't believe Robert is gone." He sighed. "I talked to him two, three times a week. He was really psyched about med school. I was happy for him. You know I originally planned to be a doctor, right?"

"No. No, I didn't"

He shrugged. "I changed majors when it became apparent that financially I wasn't going to be able to do it. I was on my own when it came to college. I got through undergrad on scholarship, but the family income was too high for me to be able to get it for med school."

"What specialty would you have chosen?"

"Endocrinology, maybe OB/GYN. I think I would've been good at it."

Sara smiled over at him. "I KNOW you would've, but I'm selfish. I'm glad things turned out like they did. I somehow doubt we'd be quite as close if I'd had my feet in stirrups when we met."

Greg chuckled. "Yeah, I'm all about being inappropriate, but asking a lady to dinner while doing her Pap smear would be a little over the line even for me."

"Well, at least your other problems are taken care of. "

He snorted. "Except the entire lab knows my business. "

"I don't recall anything particularly damning about the particulars of either case. Who's going to say anything - Nick? Remember the dead hooker? Warrick? Holly Gribbs. Catherine? Sam Braun. Grissom? Lady Heather. Brass? His kid's a hooker. Me? Too many things to mention. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Every one of us has closet skeletons. You want to look at a few of mine? My mother murdered my father. She spent the next five years in a mental hospital - that's why I was in foster care. I'm telling you this because you need to know that I do understand how it feels when your life seems ugly, dirty, stained, like you are so different from everyone else that no one could ever understand you. And now you feel naked and ashamed, because all your carefully constructed cover has blown away and the edges of the truth are hanging out and you are afraid, so damned afraid they're going to grab an edge and pull and figure it all out. Am I getting close?"

He nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah. You've got it."

"Let me help you out here. They aren't going to figure it out. Maybe Grissom could if he tried, but he won't because he doesn't want to know because if he did know then he'd have to try to fix you and he has no idea how to do that. Warrick won't pry; he'll respect your privacy because if he doesn't then you might not respect his, and he doesn't want that because I think he has a LOT to hide. Nick cares, but he won't push. He has his own demons to fight. Catherine is not about getting in other peoples' business. That leaves me, and you know where I'm coming from. I knew there was something, even before this, just like you did about me. We're sort of coming from the same place. That's probably why we've ended up so close."

"So how do you ever get to the point where you don't feel different,  
like you're not good enough?"

Sara glanced over at him sadly. "I'll let you know if I ever get to that point."


	3. Chapter 3

"There are sure a lot of people here." Greg and Sara stood near the back of the crowd that had gathered around the gravesite. Mr. Sanders Senior had shot one brief, withering glance at his son, but otherwise seemed content to ignore him. Sara was pressed close to him and had her arm linked with his, and he could almost feel her strength flowing out to him. 

"Yeah, Dad knows a lot of people, and Robert had a lot of friends. I'm not seeing many familiar faces, though."

The funeral was a short one, and Greg stepped back when the reception line started to form. "Do you want to go speak with him?"

Greg shook his head. "I don't think so. Let's head back to the car."

They were walking away when Greg was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "Excuse me - aren't you Gregory Sanders?"

Greg turned to face a bright-eyed, haggard-looking man who appeared to be in his mid 50's. "Yes, that's me. Do I know you?"

The man was silent for a few moments, just stood looking intently at Greg. "No, you don't. You should, but you don't. If you would be kind enough to join me for dinner, I'd like to talk to you. There are - things - about yourself you don't know, but you should, you need to. I've remained silent for far too long."

Greg glanced at Sara, then back at the man. "Um, sure. Where do you want to go?"

"If you'll be good enough to follow me, I'll show you..."

Ten minutes later they were sitting in the booth of a tiny Chinese restaurant. Greg and Sara were seated facing the stranger. Sara studied the man before her. He was slim, average height, his light brown hair generously peppered with grey. What truly drew her attention, however, was his face. He looked like an older version of Greg. From the long, straight nose to the startling brown eyes, the resemblance was uncanny.

The man sighed. "I'm Dr. David Hale. For the past twenty years I've been a researcher for Burroughs-Wellcome, but in late 1973 I was an associate professor at UCLA. That was the year I met your mother. She was separated at the time, no intentions of getting back together, so we began dating. It wasn't long before we were in love." He swallowed hard. "We were together for a little over a year. I wanted to marry her, tried to get her to finalize the divorce, but she was afraid he'd take Wills away from her, and Wills was already, um, troubled. Then we, ah, she found out she was pregnant." He sighed. "I begged her to marry me, pleaded with her not to go back to Sanders but she said she didn't have any choice. She said he'd use her pregnancy against her, make sure she never saw Wills again. She left me, made me promise not to try to contact you. She said he'd make you pay if I did, but it looks like he did that anyway."

Greg looked down at the table. "Yeah, he did that." He sighed. "You were at her funeral."

Hale nodded. "And at your awards ceremonies, and your science fairs, at your high school and college graduations, and at the hospital visiting your mother when she was sick. I saw her regularly over the years, you know. Before she died she made me promise again not to contact you. Still, when your lab blew up I came to see you. You were asleep, but I got ice for you, refilled your water, went down to the lobby and got you some cans of soda and some crackers. If you'd been awake I would've told you I was a volunteer."

"Why did you finally decide to make contact now, after all these years?"

Hale's gaze was steady. "Because I saw how he looked at you. That look told me my presence wasn't going to ruin your relationship with Sanders - he'd already done that himself. When you headed away from him after the service, I made my move. I hope you don't mind."

"You and my mother... did your relationship continue after she and my fa-, after I was born?"

Hale sighed. "I can't lie to you, Greg. She was the love of my life. It was wrong, but yes, we did get together infrequently after she and Sanders got back together."

"How long did it last?"

"From the time we broke up until she died." His voice was sad. "He had his affairs, she had me. I always hoped once Wills got into college she'd take you and come back to me. Then she had Robert, and I knew that wasn't ever going to happen. From that point on I made do with what she gave me - some time with her every now and then, copies of your report cards and a few photos of you every year, the chance to see you from afar once in a while. You never knew, but I was always very proud of you. You got a birthday and a Christmas present from me every year - you just never knew who they were from. "

"Is... Was Robert yours?"

"No." Hale's voice was clipped. "I was out of the country that year. He and Wills have the same father. I am saddened at his tragic death, though. I know this must be horrible for you. I know you were close."

"Yeah, well, Wills wasn't much of a brother to him either."

Hale nodded. "It's hard to have any sort of positive relationship with a sociopath, I'm sure. You look surprised. Surely you've suspected that was his problem."

Greg shook his head. "Yeah, but it's kind of strange hearing it said out loud."

"While your mother and I were together, she had him tested. He - did things, terrible things - to a stray cat, and I convinced her she needed to follow through and find out why. She did, and he was diagnosed. It was a sad time for her. I felt bad for both of them - for her, knowing her child could never return her love for him, and for him, that he would never truly relate to another living creature. I have always thought psychopathy was the most tragic of all possible deficits."

"For everyone in the family. His father is pleased with him, though." Greg's voice was bitter.

"Mmmhmmm. That's because sociopaths are master manipulators. He tells Sanders what he wants to hear, gives him what he wants, but not out of love. It's all part of an agenda. William Sanders is a very wealthy man, and Wills is his eldest son."

"His ONLY son now. I mean nothing to him. I won't be hearing from him again. " Greg sighed. "It's a relief in a sense. All he ever had to say to me was negative - comparing me to Wills, putting me down for being a dork, not popular enough, not athletic enough, not manly enough. He didn't like my hair, my clothes, my apartment, my car, my choice of colleges, my profession. The list was endless. I loved him. When I was younger I tried so hard to make him proud. I was captain of the chess club. When we won the state and regional championships I thought for sure he would be pleased, but he never said anything. After that, I realized he was never going to see anything positive in me. I kind of gave up."

"Is that why you gave up competing? You were very good." Hale glanced at Sara. "Greg was one of the best young chess players in the country at one point. He was outstanding - would be again, if he chose to."

"So, son, now we've met. I assume you'll be wanting to do a DNA test to confirm what I've told you. Once you have your confirmation, you'll have a decision to make. Can you forgive an old man for wasting too many years lurking in the shadows? My motives were good, but I made a bad decision when I agreed not to approach you. Your mother was a good woman, a wise one as well, but in this one thing she was wrong. We should have been honest with you. Believe me when I tell you I wanted to, more than anything I wanted to."

"Yeah, I forgive you. You were only doing what she asked you to do. When she told me about you, she wouldn't tell me who you were, only that you were a good man, a brilliant scientist. You did what you thought was the right thing to do. I can't condemn you for that."

"I made a lot of bad decisions in my time with your mother. I'm not proud of how I handled it. I'm not an evil man, Greg, just a very weak one. I'd like to have the chance to get to know my only son better, though."

Greg smiled a little then. "I'd like that. I really would."


	4. Chapter 4

Last chapter. Characters aren't mine.

"So what did you think?" Greg asked Sara as he fastened his seatbelt.

"I think the chances are very good Hale is your father. The resemblance is amazing."

"I agree, but I was actually wondering what you thought of him."

Sara sighed. "He seems like a kind man. Lonely. Imagine spending your whole adult life on the outside looking in - the woman he loved married to another man, so he rarely saw her; his own child being raised by his rival, his only contact the odd photo or chance to watch from a distance. It's sad, really. He obviously has always cared about you."

Greg nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I realized that as we were talking. I was a little pissed he'd never contacted me, but I guess now I can understand why."

Sara pulled into a parking lot. "Hope Holiday Inn's alright."

Greg nodded. "Whatever. I'm so tired. It's been a long, horrible couple of days."

Sara smiled sympathetically and opened the car door. "Let's go get that room so you can relax, then."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but all we have left tonight is a room with one king sized bed."

Sara cast a glance at an exhausted Greg. "We'll take it." She smiled at his raised eyebrows. "Don't worry; I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Yeah, but who says I will?" he whispered in her ear. She didn't reply, just grinned and handed him the room key.

"Let's get our stuff and head on up."

The room was small but decent, with the surprising inclusion of a jacuzzi tub. "Oh, yes, there are definitely benefits to getting the couples' room," Greg said as he stroked the polished surface. "I do love a jacuzzi - and don't worry, I share." The tub was oversized, obviously built for two.

"The bed is huge." Sara bounced on the bed. "Comfortable, too."

"That's good. I'll probably be out like a light as soon as I climb in." Greg sat down next to her. "Sara, I want to thank you for all you've done. I couldn't have gotten through this without you."

"That's what friends do. You've been there for me, and I'm here for you."

"Yeah, but this was above and beyond the call of friendship. My family situation is beyond freaky."

"And mine's not? Greg, I think it's time you heard MY whole story. "

He scooted close and swung his legs over to lay beside her on the bed. She folllowed suit, moving to lie facing him. "There were two of us. My older brother Steve was seven years older than me. Anyhow, my parents always fought a lot. They argued about money, argued about my Dad's drinking, argued about everything. Sometimes he'd hit her, leave bruises across her face, on her arms, probably more where we couldn't see. For the most part it happened after Steve and I went to bed, so I heard it but usually didn't see anything. It started escalating around the time I went into fourth grade. I was nine then, old enough to know why Mom kept having to go to the hospital to get patched up. He broke her arm, knocked teeth out, gave her a concussion. I was so afraid he was going to kill her one day. Evidently she was too, because one night when I was ten she killed him." Greg's arm slipped around her but he said nothing, so she continued. "Mom went to the mental hospital, and Steve and I were farmed out to separate foster homes. He ran away from his the first week. I stayed, until they moved me on to another, then another, then another. I was in the system until I graduated at age sixteen. A lot of bad things happened to me along the way, and pretty much nobody seemed to give a damn." She sighed. "I learned not to trust anyone but myself. I decided nobody would be there for me but me, and I charted my own course as best I could. My Mom finally got out of the hospital while I was in college, but she killed herself two months later. My brother has been in and out of prison over the years. I think this time he's pretty much in from now on since he beat his girlfriend to death last year."

"Have you seen him since it happened?"

"Just once. He tried to get me to lie for him to give him an alibi. When I refused he told me not to ever contact him again. Once I reviewed the evidence and realized that there was no possible way he didn't do it I felt okay doing just that. We'd been out of contact for years before that." She sighed. "We're a pair, aren't we?"

He pulled her close. "That we are." He was silent for a few moments, gathering his nerve. "You're an amazing woman and an awesome friend. I'm lucky to have you in my life. Only sometimes..."

"Sometimes?..."

"Sometimes I wish we could be more than friends." He spoke this part in a whisper.

She didn't reply for several minutes. "I think about it sometimes, wonder if we might end up as more. I think it's definitely a possibility. I'm past the thing with Grissom, and we're definitely getting closer. Timing's off right now, but we do seem to be headed in that direction."

He grinned broadly. "So you're saying you're interested in me as more than a friend."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am, but we need to take it slowly. You have a lot of shit to sort through right now, and I'm here for you as it unfolds. Once this passes and things settle down, then maybe we can talk about... about being more than just friends." She smiled and put one hand on his cheek. "It's always a mistake to rush into something new when your life is up in the air. There's no hurry. I'll still be here in a few weeks, or a few months, however long it takes."

"So if I asked you to go out with me, say, next month, you'd be okay with that?"

She smiled. "I would."

He pulled her close. "I'm holding you to that. Remember that."

the end


End file.
